


PISS

by vbligs



Category: no - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vbligs/pseuds/vbligs





	PISS

Beau couldn't _breathe_.

Between the kissing, and Butch laying over her (she managed to get him unstuck, seeing as his pants had caught on a jagged edge she needed to file out) with his forearms trapping her where she reclined, face hotter than the old light bulbs surrounding them. His hair was mussed, her fingers ruining the perfect pompadour he usually sported, and instead of his usual cocky expression, Butch looked like he was having a revelation, like a religious man hearing the voice of God. 

 ** _Butch_**.

Beau was having an asthma attack and a panic attack and a heart attack all at **_once_**.

She couldn't  ** _breathe_**.

Beau was kissing Butch.  _Butch_. The guy who had taunted and teased and fucked with her for  _years_. A guy she had no business having a stupid, petty crush on.

Yet here she was, cradling his face in calloused hands that surprised him with their roughness. He'd expected her hands to be soft and delicate, a girl's hands according to everything he'd ever been told, but instead got ones with little scars over the knuckles and fingers worn rough by working on Pip-Boys. Beau could tell he hadn't expected her hands to mirror his.

It was _satisfying_ to surprise him, she was learning.

But that didn't excuse what she was doing, pulling his face to hers with a breathless laugh as he closed the difference and locked lips with hers. Her hair was wild, she could feel it from where his hands had tangled, she probably looked like she'd just been fucked. Didn't excuse how she felt him groan, the vibrations buzzing in her mouth as she pulled at his lip, gently, with her teeth. Beau liked the way he inhaled, _sharp_ , as her hips bumped up into his, arms shaking as she struggled to hold herself up. She didn't like how her big, circular glasses kept hitting the edge of his cheekbones, although it was oh-so- _satisfying_ when he laughed, a deep rumble that ran up from his chest and made her shiver. She didn't like how she was so dis-proportioned, but was glad that he couldn't run his hands along her body without falling.

Beau felt like she was going crazy, she  _shouldn't_ be kissing Butch. He and his goons made her cry all the time, and he didn't care about her.

She shouldn't be _kissing_ him...but why did it feel so _good_ to?

She pushed him off of her, not making him move, just...no more kissing. Faces close enough to touch again but far enough they could see each other in entirety.

So she couldn't help but study him as he looked disappointed.

...He probably thought she was _easy_.

Thought she would be a quick fuck and then _gone,_ no more kissing for Beau, kissing was a thing of the past and now Beau was back to silently crying. Not as hard as before, but still there, still having little tears drip down from her eyelashes.

"But-Buh-Butch, wuh-wuh-wuh-why are yo-you ki-k-k-kiss-kissing me?" She looked up at him with big eyes, hating how she couldn't get a single word out without mangling it, chest heaving as she struggled to think straight, nervous because he wouldn't look away. And his face was red too. She hadn't noticed that at first.

"'Cause you kissed me, baby. Why else?" Butch's voice was strained and husky and breathless. His answer was straight forward, to the point, but she didn't take it at face value.

 _'Look at what happened to Susie,'_ Beau thought, chewing her bottom lip. _'I can't trust a word that he says.'_

"Nuh-No. I mea-mea-mean...God, fu-fuh-fuck...I mea-mean did Wally ma-ma-mak-make you do thi-this? I-I-Is this just his ne-neh-next attempt to mess wi-wi-with me, aft-af-aft-after earli-earlier? I...I duh-don't want t-t-t-to dea-de-de-deal with i-i-it if it i-is," Beau looked away, face reddening in shame and anger, sitting up fully and using one arm to furiously rub the tears away to no avail. Butch, however, cocked an eyebrow and looked at her, confused.

"Listen, baby, _nobody_ tells the Butch-man what to do. So I dunno what Wally said to ya', but - wait, what the fuck you mean, _next attempt?_ Why the fuck are you in here cryin', anyways?" Relief flooded her brain. Butch didn't know what she meant. Butch didn't know what Wally'd said to her. He was in here because of her, not Wally being a dick again.

She wanted to cry again, but she was already doing that, so the most she could do is offer him a sniffly, weak and watery smile and bite her lip as she tried not to stutter as bad when she forced out the next sentence, "He-He...I ma-m-m-m-made. I made. A-A mean co-comment. About yo-you-you. An-And Wally hea-he-heard it. So he an' P-P-Paul and Fre-F-F-Freddie, th-they cornered me and Wa-Wally...and...and..." she took a gulp of air, surprised at how patient he was being with her. Usually, by now, he and his cronies would be making fun of the stutter, and she'd stutter more as a result. Not this time, apparently.

His voice was solemn when he touched her cheek, thumb gently swiping away a tear, "You don't have to tell me if you don't wanna. I don'wanna force ya' or nuthin'..." And that was the single nicest thing Butch had ever said to her.

Jesus.

She couldn't even function, turning red under his stare and looking away, only turning back when Butch softly guided her face towards his by the chin.

"Look a'me, okay?" He breathed, rocking back onto his haunches and wrapping her up in an embrace that smelled like leather and cologne and sweat and blood and Butch.

He held her against his chest as she inhaled deeply and burrowed in further, eyes drying, finally, and she calmed down enough to think.

"Yuh-Yuh-You must th-th-ink-in-ink I'm eas-easy, huh?" She mumbled, voice soft and muffled by his shirt, but still loud enough that he heard it. She felt his arms stiffen around her as he processed what she'd just said.

"...What?"

"Ea-Easy. Think that I-I-I'm gon-go-go-gonna give y-y-yyy-you a quic-quick fuck 'cause you-you came in he-he-here to see wh-why-y I was cry-cry-c-c-crying. Probab-bab-ba-Probably think I'm a big ba-ba-baby for cry-crying. Wh-Wh-Why are y-yyy-y-you even in he-he-h-here with m-mm-me, Butch?" She couldn't stop rambling, the words pouring out of her as her tears dried up, finally. Every creak of leather, every time she heard his heartbeat, more came out, until she felt empty.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke, voice thick with some sort of emotion, "You...Bea- No, wait, hold on," he was going to make some sort of grandiose speech, why hold it off? Why wait to probably confirm her fears?

"How do I say it right?"

Another moment of silence, wherein she looked up and met his eyes, glasses askew and face flushed, "Say wha-wh-what?"

"Your name. I wanna say it right, okay?"

Beau swallowed thickly, tongue darting out and wetting her chapped lips, "Beau. You s-ss...say it like Beau."

The silence was deafening, only broken by their heartbeats which rang in their ears.

"...Beau."

It sent an electric shock through her, numbing her fingers and leaving Beau's lips parted in a small 'o,' in the split second after the feeling passed, she swallowed once more, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, "S-Say it. Say it-t-t again."

Butch inhaled, sharp, and Beau could feel the swell of his lungs under her fingers.

"Beau."

"A-Again."

"Beau, I-"

"No, again, pl-please."

He took her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks gently and stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs, and when she breathed out his name as a little plea for _more, don't stop please,_  that turned Butch's ears  _red,_ "Beau, you ain't easy."

Beau's words ripped out of her mouth, startling her with their clarity and the force with which she spoke them, "More. Now. Don't stop."

It was only a name, only a name, but it had her neurons firing erratically, fingernails digging into his skin. He'd never said it right, never _ever_ said her name right, not in the nineteen years of knowing eachother. The way he seemed to cradle it, the way his mouth moved when he said her name, God, it was nearly  _pornographic_ how absolutely perfect it was. The way his voice shook as he tested it out, the deep rumble and the flush of his cheeks when he saw what it did to her - absolutely  _obscene_. And the way he bit those cupid bow's lips, perfectly shaped - she wanted to  _scream._ Butch was a fine specimen, but she'd never thought about him this way, never made a move, and when she'd dated the few people her age in the vault, them saying her name had  _never_ affected her  _this badly._

 _"Beau,_ you  _ain't_ easy, and this? This ain'a joke. Ya...You're importan' t'me," he gulped, voice lingering over her name, "You deal wit'my shit all the time, an' you're the only  _real_ person in the  _entire_ goddamn Vault! Like, you aren't...deluding yourself. You don' give a fuck about anything the Overseer says,  _Beau._ You're pretty an' kind to even my rude ass, an' you fix my Pip-Boy when I break it. You're smart and perfect and small - Hell," he cut himself off, looking away, tongue caught between his teeth as his face to his neck went red.

He almost didn't catch her whisper, too lost in his head.

_"Please - what...wha-what were you gonna sa-s-s-say?"_

Butch looked back at Beau, groaning low in his throat as he saw her pleading expression. She was too cute, too sweet.

"... _Fuck._ Alright.  _Fuck,_ Beau, I jus' wanna have you wear my jacket, an' I wanna see you jus' ab-so-lutely swallowed up by it. Fuck, stop me Beau if I'm too...gross, I guess, but I wanna make you  _scream._ I ain' kidding - I wanna have you in my apartment, wearin'  _nuthin'_ other 'an my jacket, I wanna see your face all red an' cute as I eat you up. I wanna make you happy, make you feel  _good_ , Beau. I wanna have you ridin' my face, I wanna feel your thighs 'round my head an' I wanna see your eyes big an' wide and full'a love an' I wan your fingers in my  _hair_ and I wanna make you  _scream my name,_ I wan' every bastard in the Vault to know you're  _mine,_ I wanna make you mine, Beau. I wanna hold your hand an' I wanna kiss you outside a' ths hidey-hole. I wanna call you cute an' I want you to be my girl, Beau,  _fu-"_

And before he could finish, she was reaching up and dragging him down so his body hunched over hers, lips smashing together like a hurricane, breath snatched away as their mouths moved in tandem, his hands flying to her shoulders and then around her waist, pulling her close, close,  _closer._ Hips rolling, breathing labored, and groans everywhere.

And their lips on each other, devouring.

Butch held her close, close, close, closer, hips rolling up against hers, relishing in every gasp of pleasure Beau made when they connected. Hands, pawing at eachother as Beau's breath hitched, feeling Butch's hand playing with the hem of her skirt. A silent plea made into a groan pushed into their kiss, Butch pulling back, leaving her wanting, grumbling at the loss of contact, her hands grabbing at him. It was sort of funny, seeing Butch catch her wrists and hold them softly.

_"I'm gonna need a yes from you, Beau, if you want me to keep goin', okay?"_

Beau yanked her hands out of his grip and grabbed the collar of his Vault-issued undershirt, pulling him back in close, and smashing their lips together clumsily, growling her next words into it, hands slipping from Butch's collar to his shoulders down his chest, fingernails raising goosebumps through the Vault-suit and undershirt.

"Don't you  _da-dare_  stop, Butch DeLoria."

That was all he needed to hear, frantically peeling off his Tunnel Snakes jacket while simultaneously leaning forward, two directions at once but he couldn't stop touching her. Butch felt like he'd die if he let go of her. Another bout of movement to get the suit off, and with Beau's help, he managed to push it down to his waist, leaving himself wearing nothing but the pants part and the thin, thin undershirt.

Beau couldn't help herself, hands dancing down to his waist and then up his stomach. He was soft but not too soft, the hard planes and angles of his stomach showed his strength, not that him being strong was unknown. He flaunted it in every fight he got into, after all. He inhaled sharply as Beau's hands traced back down his chest, her long fingers hooking into his waistband, going to dip in before Butch stopped her once more, making her whine as he pulled back again, which quickly turned into a long, drawn out moan as his mouth went to the junction of her neck, one hand cradling her head so that he had more access, the other on her thigh, slowly, achingly slowly, inching up to the hem of her dress. A little gasp escaped her clenched mouth as his touch reached a little higher, eyes hazily recognizing the absolute vulgarity of the situation; one hand under her skirt (nearly there) and his mouth leaving hickies along her sweet spot, all the while her mouth was still open in its little 'o' as she leaned into his touch, voice low and husky as she let out little moans of enjoyment.

"Butch, more-" she commanded, no, begged, legs trembling and hands fisting in his hair as Butch's hand reached higher, higher, until reaching the waistband of her underwear, making her gasp.

A little bite to the junction of her neck and shoulder, soon soothed by his tongue, all the while his thumb stroked over the joint of where her hip and thigh met, almost reverent in his touch. Beau could  _feel_ him go to ask if he could touch her, could feel him start to pull back, but she brought him closer,nestling his chin in the small plateau of her chest as she felt her face go flush. Tilting his head to look up at her, she bit her lip, nervous now, but unable to stop. There was something intoxicating about being in the hidey-hole, they seemed to exist separate from the Vault.

_"Please - do...don't s-stop."_

He didn't have to be told twice, sliding out of her grip and kissing down her neck to her shoulder,  _"Baby, you're gonna need to take this off if you wanna go-"_

Butch didn't even finish before she was flinging off the blue cotton dress, eyes like a wildfire, shedding her skin like a snake. A dangerous gleam twinkled in her eyes, a silent promise to hurt him bad if he didn't keep going. Beau went to say something, probably another threat (this was the most violent he'd ever heard her be,) and before she could even get out the first syllable, he pressed a kiss to her collar bone, making her shudder and turn bright red. Lip caught between her teeth, struggling to keep some semblance of control as his kisses went down, across the top curve of her breasts, feeling the swell of her lungs as she gulped in air like someone drowning, down the center, sternum to stomach to just above her underwear line.

It was exhilarating, and looking up, Butch could see she'd thrown an arm over her face, eyes peeking out from under soft eyelashes, and that her mouth, still caught between teeth, was attempting to suppress a smile. 

Butch  _liked_ seeing her like this - hair a mess and pupils blown out, he liked seeing her at his mercy, liked the feel of her skin under his lips.

_"Look at me, baby, lemme see your face."_

Beau shifted her arm, hands clenching as he grinned that wolfish grin, hands softly opening up her thighs to nestle his torso there.  _What was he -_ ** _Oh!_**

_**Fuck.** _

He pressed a soft, gentle, barely there kiss on top of her still clothed sex, body sliding down, down, so that his face stayed in between her shaking legs, thumbs reaching up and hooking into the waistband. Slowly,  _achingly,_ he pulled her underwear off, leaving it hooked over one of her feet, not caring, but in seeing her -  _oh,_ ** _fuck_** \- the way her curls glistened with slick, how she covered her face again in embarrassment as he stared, unashamed.

 


End file.
